


Autonomy within Reason (Reason without Sense)

by maccabird_23



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick had proved every naysayer right. He flaunted the image that the media and hockey culture already had in the back of their mind; that of an unmated omega in the NHL taking the power that they so kindly let him have and becoming unhinged, out of control and trying to dominate alphas off the ice.</p><p>Follow me on tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/maccahawk</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All four chapters are now edited. Chapters 1 and 2 were beta edited. If anyone would be interested in beta editing chapter 3 and 4 let me know.

Any and every hockey game, Pat noticed from an early age came with a certain sense of [complete](../../undefined/works/1029587?view_adult=true) autonomy. The possibility or chance to have such complete control over his own body, and the ability to use every muscle and well-stretched fiber to create something beautiful. Something that was all his own.

Being the first feet, faster than any other, and controlling a break away. Shimmying on restless [skates](../../undefined/works/1029587?view_adult=true) and tapping his stick, screaming loudly that he was wide open. The vibration of his stick up his forearm as the puck connected hard, only equaling in force when he smacked it top shelf off a goalies blocker side. Finally, the uproar of the crowd as he saluted them and they saluted back, cheering his skill to be completely autonomous; if only in just those few hours his skates touched ice.

But all freedom had its limits, and all it really took was a bad twenty minutes without a puck. A cold sweat dripping down Kane's back as he sat on the bench watching the seconds trickle down and Jonny's form pressed stiffly to his right. Just like that they had been taken out of the playoffs, a first round exist to nowhere but off the ice and back home.

And summer was weird like that, the heat and happiness of people and things thriving, reminding the cosmos that they were still alive. But it was different for Pat; it always had been. Being a hockey player and an omega in summer was like being a space-heater during a heat wave. He was just stored away idly, until someone told him he was of use.

He never got the chance to go out and shed his clothes, show alphas what they were missing when they said omega athletes had the wrong build and the wrong attitude. He never understood why everyone, especially hockey fans and media, thought omegas that played professionally were single-minded shrews who only lived to embarrass alphas at their own game.

In reality, after most games Pat became so winded up, doped out on endorphin and body contact with so many alphas he felt like he could mate for hours without end. That he could wrap around, submit to and exhaust out the next sweaty body that touched his after any amazing win.

It was that anger that had driven him; that lust and helplessness that had taken Pat from his empty [apartment](../../undefined/works/1029587?view_adult=true) in Chicago after a game six loss to Phoenix and into the crowded streets of Madison. He didn't remember most of it, snippets here and there after too many vodkas and tequila shots poured down his throat by eager alphas. He had a blurry memory of riding an alpha's knot as another omega licked the stretched, flushed skin where their bodies mated.

In the end, he didn't have to remember anything since most of it was caught in frame by frame, written out in abrasive detail in every sports column and blog. Pictures surfaced of Kane passed out and naked, laid bare in strange beds of faceless men. The gossip became facts and Pat didn't have a leg to stand on without any real memory of his own. Had he come to a frat party late into the hours, smelling like rum, sweat and omega heat two months off his expected cycle? Had he wrapped himself around a mated alpha, ignoring his protests, begging to be fucked and forcing him into public indecency with his uncontrolled hormones?

It was always strange, how they saw omegas as uncontrolled animals, base and thriving on the instinct to be fucked when they seduced an alpha. But an alpha in rut were always in authority of their hormones, without sway to the vulgar of begging and taking what rightfully belonged to them.

The worst part were the bruises. Kane had been messed up by countless players during the sixty minutes of ice time. Those few moments where it was legal for alphas to hit an omega hard into the boards and throw them onto the ground with all their muscle mass. The aspect of the game that horrified most of polite society but sent a thrill down Pat's spine that he was being treated as a complete equal. But those were bruises that he could count like a collection of badges, each one coming with a personal memory.

The Madison bruises, hand prints etched into his thighs and bite marks aching at his neck were alien. They came with no memory or situation and left him feeling powerless to anything that could have occurred. They were unwelcome visitors on his body that wouldn't leave but would only slowly fade into garish blue and green nuisances.

Until then, he was stuck, placed on house arrest in his own childhood home by Bowman and Bettman, both the Blackhawks and the NHL organizations trying to save face while doing damage control. He hadn't done anything illegal like drive drunk or do drugs but did something that was much worst in public opinion. He proved every naysayer right. He flaunted the image that the media and hockey culture already had in the back of their mind; that of an unmated omega in the NHL taking the power that they so kindly let him have and becoming unhinged, out of control and trying to dominate alphas off the ice.

They were taking that and building it to the point that no response seemed to be good enough. The PR had tried to spin it that Patrick had had an unexpected heat at the wrong place and time while out visiting friends. That caused more damage than it fixed. The media, pesky and self-righteous reporters, were asking how he could have had a sudden heat so soon after the playoffs if he was on heat suppressants, a mandatory drug for every omega who played a professional sport.

They speculated that Kane went off his heat suppressants during playoffs, hoping to have an unfair advantage over alphas who wouldn't be able to hurt or fight someone who smelled so strongly of omega. All of it made Kane curl his fist hard into his palm, being soothed by the pain because at least it was his own and not bullshit forced onto him by people that thought they knew better.

Kane had started suppressants after his first heat at twelve and been on birth control since he was twenty-one, the legal age for omegas to start the pill. It had all been solely for one reason, to better his game and not be noticed because of what was between his legs but for what was between his hands. His ability to do wonders with the puck and set up plays was the reason the Hawks didn't hesitate to draft him first overall, even though many commentators said that it was the wrong choice, a card the Blackhawks must have played to boost media attention to a failing organization in the league.

Now those same commentators were being validated, making sound bites about hockey like they were preachers talking about the fall of morals in the NHL with first allowing betas to play in the fifties and then omegas in the nineties. They first asked for Kane's expulsion from the NHL and when they found out that wouldn't happen they asked for the next worst thing. They were asking for an arranged mating.

It was barbaric but still done in most cultures, advising that an omega be mated for their own good. In the few situations that Kane had seen in the past, omegas always had the option to say no but didn't. When Pat was twelve, he played at a hockey rink owned by an omega. Jacob was a jolly, pert man in his forties who always let Patrick stay a little bit longer than anyone else so he could practice. He would always wink and tell Kane that omegas had to help each other out. He was brash and independent and that's what crushed Pat when he first met Jacob's alpha. Stuart was a tall, thin man, as stiff as the suits he always wore and cold as the ice he never touched foot on.

When he asked Jacob why he mated with him, Jacob had just shrugged and explained it was arranged. He had been struggling for years to get a loan so he could start his own ice rink, but banks would never think about investing in a single omega. Then one day a bank offered him a deal. They said they would only give him a loan if they knew he was stable enough to upkeep it. That's when they introduced him to one of their associates. Stuart was a single alpha who just wanted a convenient marriage, an omega that would make home, make food and make babies.

Pat had shook his head, not understanding how someone would give up their freedom even to follow their dream. It never seemed like a fair trade off. But here he was, waiting for Bowman to call him about their decision. Kane gulped hard, feeling something sick stuck in his throat as he held back a well of betrayal that gathered in his chest. He didn't feel betrayed by the Blackhawks but by himself because he knew that if they demanded he mate or be traded that he would give in. He would take the trade off, hockey in an organization he loved at the cost of his autonomy. Losing his freedom in almost every aspect of life just to keep the freedom he feels on the ice.

A hesitant knock on the door, followed by his mom’s voice alerted Pat to the fact that he wasn't alone with his thoughts anymore. He cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes as he told her to come in. His mom smiled softly at him, never judging. Neither of his parents ever did since the first day they signed him up for peewee hockey while other parents glared at them. They were a beta couple who had the misfortune of having one omega son before they were able to have three perfect alpha daughters. His sisters whom still wouldn't speak to him.

“Honey, Jonathan stopped by again. He said that he has news for you.” His mother's smile was tight, and he could tell that she had the same worry he did. If someone was going to break the bad news to Patrick, the classiest move the organization could probably make was to send their captain, Pat's captain.

“Send him in, I guess.” Kane had been trying to avoid Toews since everything happened, but Jonny made it hard, coming to Buffalo and trying to talk to Pat at least three times a week. Patrick appreciated the concern in the same amount he resented that he needed it. Most days he just liked to be left alone and not reminded of the shit storm he was facing.

Jonny came in like he did everything, with a quiet air of authority and dominance that most alphas could only fake at the best of times. He sat on the edge of Kane's small, twin bed, taking up more room than he meant to as the bed dipped down heavily under his build. Patrick's body followed the motion and soon he was leaning toward Toews, head in hand and neck bared. It was thought of as rude to stretch your neck towards any alpha, but Jonny had been his friend for years and long ago they had let go of any normal boundaries that most unmated alphas and omegas had.

Jonny hooked his thumb and pointer finger around Pat's ankle, slowly tugging for his attention. Patrick met his eyes and soon regretted it because Jonny had on his captain face. He was getting prepared for a battle and he wanted to make sure Kane was just as ready.

“Shit, Jonny, don't keep me waiting,” Pat murmured into his own palm, trying hard not to just flee. He let out a burst of nervous laughter before asking again, “Who's knot am I gonna have to be stuck to for the rest of my life?”

Jonny loosened his grip around Pat's ankle, staring at the point right behind Kane's ear. There was a picture there of the entire team celebrating their first cup together. They were all drunk and happy out on the ice hoisting their long fought prize. “Me, Kaner. We're gonna have to get mated.”

Patrick felt his blood run cold, his face breaking out in a sudden sweat. He was panicking and angry. There were few people he really trusted, and as he kicked out away from his future mate he realized that Jonny was one of them. “You fucker. You knothead. How fucking dare you?” Kane burst out in his anger, hurling two tight fist toward Jonny.

Toews took the first one off the jaw, wincing heavily but not defending and that just made Kane angrier as he threw another one. This one Jonny stopped before struggling on top of Kane and pinning both his wrists down on either side of his head. Pat spit in his face and that got the reaction Patrick had been waiting for. Jonny got red, his nostrils flaring as he invaded Pat's personal space. When their faces were only inches apart Jonny let it all out.

“I had no fucking choice. You were an idiot, so they were gonna mate you to some fucker in a suit. Some cog in the organization who had more money than emotions and I couldn't fucking let that happen to you.”

Pat laid there, chest heaving as he took in the sad facts about his personal hell that he called a life, but at the end of that fucked up tunnel he saw a bright side. A light or maybe a white flag that Toews was offering him. He let out a long breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding in for so long. He looked into Jonny's dark, beady eyes and asked, “What are we gonna do?”

Jonny sighed, giving up on all the tension that he had built and loosening his grip on Pat's wrists as he softly brought his forehead down to meet Kane's own. “I'm not sure, Pat, but we're gonna do it together and that's all that matters.”

Patrick, for the moment let Jonny's calm wash over him as he closed his eyes. He could do this, he thought. He could keep all that freedom he worked so hard to accomplish in the rink and maybe the tradeoff wouldn't be that bad. Pat opened his eyes and took in Toew's flushed but resting face. He looked so young when he was this tired. And maybe if Jonny let him, he wouldn't really have to lose anything at all.


	2. Living Artifacts of a Time Long Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _Hey, honey? Hey, have you ever heard this one? Why can't an omega be a goaltender? 'Cause no omega can protect his five-hole if an alpha really wants to score._   
>  _Fuck you!_   
>  _Sorry, babe. I'll leave that to your alpha._

It was during the Stanley Cup Final, maybe game three or four and when everything else seemed to blur into ice and net there was that one chirp that seemed to be stuck like a razor in Kane's flesh, blunt and lasting. Marchand had been stuck to him all game long, buzzing in his ear and trying to get under his skin. It had to be late in the game because Patrick had felt worn down, and maybe Marchand had been just as tired.

  
The joke had sounded old school, something maybe Gordie Howe might have told Ted Lindsay in 1948 as they shared a shower-head like two alpha only could in the good 'ole days of hockey. When alphas were alphas, omegas stayed at home and no one even whispered about homo-dynamics in the media. And maybe Kane had let that chirp bother him more than it should have because he was a relic from the same past.

  
_Hey, honey? Hey, have you ever heard this one? Why can't an omega be a goaltender? 'Cause no omega can protect his five-hole if an alpha really wants to score._   
_Fuck you!_   
_Sorry, babe. I'll leave that to your alpha._

  
It must have had its lasting effect on Kane because it was the first thought that popped into his head when the set manager told them that they wouldn't be able to play any actual hockey during the shoot. That shoot being the first Pro-Omega Bauer Competition and them being Kane, Eric Staal, Jeff Carter, Tyler Bozak, Tyler Seguin, Steven Stamkos, Brendan Gallagher and Taylor Hall.

  
The lack of a goaltender in that lineup meant that the shoot had devolved into a glorified Playboy montage of glamor shots with the eight of them separated into two groups. Kane, Staal, Carter and Bozak were all handed tight Under Armour but it was only after they had shrugged them on that they found out they weren't getting anymore clothes to wear. Kane hoped that if they were forcing the four of them to wear these even though they had four Stanley Cups between them that Segs, Hall, Stamkos and Gallagher were faring much, much worst.

  
But knowing what attention whores Segs, Hall and Gallagher were they were probably eating it up. Kane let out a frustrated sigh, watching Eric roll his eyes skyward as he held his Vapor stick like a weapon while baring his teeth in a sad impression of a smile. Patrick could commiserate because neither of them knew how to suffer fools easily. Not when they both grew up dealing with three younger, alpha siblings.

  
“Look happy, Staaly. What are all those alphas gonna jerk off to if you look like you'd rather be spit-roasted by a double team of Kesler and Halpern than smiling for the camera in nothing but your jock and garters.”

  
That had the response Patrick was hoping for, as Staal laughed, eyes crinkling as the photo-lens shuttered taking advantage of Eric's momentary reprieve. Carter chanced knocking his skate into Kane's as he smirked down at him before saying, “Your head must be a sick place to live, Kaner.”

  
Patrick looked up, taking notice of the small scar left on Carts chin from where Duncs slashed him. It had cost Keith a game and gained him the ire of the media and one pissed off alpha-mate on the other team. “I think you mean awesome. The word you are looking for is awesome.”

  
“What's awesome?” Kane nearly got whiplash, turning his head so fast and meeting the nervous eyes of Tyler Bozak. The older omega had been in the background for most of the day and Patrick almost felt bad for forgetting that he was actually there. In a way him, Staaly and Carts felt like a clique, old hands at the game that shared similar memories. Kaner felt like an asshole of the highest order because as he thought silently, “What the hell do you even talk about with a guy who had never even been drafted?”

  
“Bout what alphas we'd wanna be tagged teamed by,” came the flippant response from Carter, as he gave the camera a blinding smile. “Kaner's being prejudice 'cause all he's picking are Americans. What would Tazer think if he knew you were knot crazy over Oshie and Backes?” He slowly slung an arm around Kane's shoulder, as Pat watched Bozak tense. The guy looked like he was ready to strap on his chastity belt and Kaner couldn't blame him.

  
“Leave him alone Cartsy,” Staal whispered against the tight smile as he delivered a hard knock against Carter's shoulder. Jeff retaliated by extended his huge arm span and batting the back of Eric's ear. It pretty much broke down from there as the two lanky omegas wrestled each other to the floor with Carter coming up as the victor as he straddled Staal's waist and started bouncing up and down. “You like that Staaly?”

On that note the cameraman and stage manager called for a break which only made Jeff smirk harder. Carter was a pretty sick individual considering he'd only ever had one knot in his entire twenty-eight years. Patrick couldn't even imagine what his life would be like if he had bonded to the first alpha who'd knotted him. He knew the situations weren't quite the same because the first alpha he let get between his legs wasn't during training camp after he was drafted and definitely wasn't another hockey player.

  
But Kaner couldn't begrudge Jeff his fairy tale bonding to Richie because they had shit piled on them since day one. They were the first mated couple to play on the same team and every slip in play or year they didn't make it far enough in the playoffs caused the rumors mills to start piling up. Ever commentator asking whether Carts should just retire early so he could focus on being a good mate for his hockey playing alpha who was also a captain. Trading them to different teams though turned out to be a brutal mistake. Carter had suffered with year long Omega Separation Anxiety and could barely play for the Blue Jacket. Richards fared little better with points slowly coming with the Kings and by the end of the year two things had happened. Jeff had been traded to the Kings and Bettman with the league enacted a new rule that bonded alphas and omegas couldn't be traded to different teams.

  
It might have been a rule that showed too much favoritism to bonded alphas but it was the NHL, so when had they not. Kane was bias because it made his life easier knowing that it would almost be impossible for the Hawks to ever trade him unless they wanted to lose Jonny. Not that he had much to worry about now that they had just won their second cup together and Bowman announced to the media that he wanted him and Jonny to be Blackhawks for life.

  
Looking around though, he knew he wasn't alone in being bias. Bozak was an anomaly in the fact that he didn't look like the leeching asshole everyone described him to be. He seemed sheepish and every smile that Patrick was able to pull from him with a lame joke looked absolutely genuine. Kaner really couldn't concede that this was the same guy who single-handedly kept himself from being traded by ensnaring and bonding with the star of the Leafs.

  
But where Kaner's emotions cut off and his hockey smarts took over he fully recognized that Bozak was not a first line center. He didn't average up enough points, he didn't play well without Kessel on wing and was on the chopping block to be traded after the Leafs disastrous loss to the Bruins. The media ate it up with a fucking spoon when Tyler bonded to Phil Kessel one month after their first round elimination.

  
It would have come off better if Kessel didn't seem so gullible and like the poor alpha, schlump the media made him out to be. Still, Kane remembered Kruger laughing when they read about it on Twitter. Krugs had shacked up with Bozak for a year during Junior before being traded. Kane had accused him of being an asshole. But Kruger just shook his head.

  
_You don't understand. Kessel is a lucky bastard. Bozak wouldn't even given him a second look if it didn't mean he could keep that maple leaf on his jersey._

  
Kaner looked over at Bozak as Carter sprayed him with some blue Gatorade and Tyler just laughed, taking Jeff's olive branch for what it was and hopefully feeling like part of their little, strange group. It took a moment to notice that Staal wasn't on the ice. He yelled over at Carter and Bozak, “Gonna find Staaly,” and waved them off when they were about to follow.

  
He made his way to the locker room only to find Staal doubled-over, hands braced firmly on the wooden bench. It was just then that the deep smell of omega arousal hit his nose. It made him stop in his tracks as he called over for Staal's attention, “Bro? You having trouble over there?”

  
Staal looked up, meeting Kane's eyes as he let a sardonic smile play across his face. “Carter's a dickhead. He knows how to get under someone's skin. He knew that Keith would retaliate for slashing his hand and he knew that I would get wet as a leaky faucet if he ground his pretty butt against me.”

  
Kaner had no response and could only walk over and sit next to Staal, hooking their ankles together. Eric gave him a smile as he let Kane's calm wash over him. “Your happy with your alpha. I could smell it on you since you walked in here. I always knew Toews would make someone happy someday.”

  
Kane laughed briefly, nodding in agreement and thinking about Jonny who was waiting at home for him. Maybe if the shoot took long enough Patrick would get lucky and Jonny would be bored enough to make dinner. “You and Skinny?” Patrick asked, not really sure what he meant but Staal seemed to understand because he just shook his head.

  
“Skinner's great. He's becoming such an amazing alpha but we both know that I never wanted to bond to an alpha.” Kaner nodded because he'd known for a long time that Staal was homo-dynamic. It seemed to be one of the worst kept secrets in the entire NHL. Any time Eric would show up to a league event with an omega friend on arm instead of a alpha date other players would talk and it didn't stop there. It was when the media started making loud whispers that the Hurricanes confronted Staal about his life-style choices.

  
Eric resisted for the longest time but it was when Jeff Skinner came into the league, fresh faced and idolizing that Staal conceded. Mating an alpha that acted and looked like an omega still didn't change the fact that Eric had bonded himself to an alpha when all he really wanted to do was mate other omegas.

  
“Does Skinner know,” Patrick asked, not really sure why he was so curious.

  
Eric sighed, shrugging his shoulders as he fixed the tape on his garters. “I thought I was keeping this big secret from him but he'd known all along. He thought he was making my life easier by agreeing to bond. He tries his best to not force anything I don't want but he's an alpha.”

  
Kaner winced, thinking about the only time Toews locked himself in his room when Patrick's pheromones caused him to go into an early rut. He couldn't imagine what an eager eighteen year old alpha must be like when he's surrounded by the pungent smell of an older omega, who was getting into his best breeding years.

  
“Do you remember when you won gold at the Olympics and Toews got so drunk that he tried to hump your leg?” Staal let out a full body laugh that nearly shook the entire bench. “You mean the time I won gold and I had to punch Tazer in the face when he tried to make sweet love to my leg. Then I hid out in your room until he fell asleep and we winded up making out.”

  
Kaner let a mischievous smile play across his face as he remembered taking off Staal's gold medal, putting it around his own neck so it laid next to his own silver medal and then threw himself on top of Eric. They had kissed for nearly an hour before Backes started pounding hard on the door, begging to be let into their shared room so he could get some sleep.

  
“Can I ask you a question, Kaner? And remember the answer to this could mean that I totally get to punch you in the nose.” Staal was giving him a glare but it had no heat behind it. Kaner shrugged and gave him the go ahead. “During The All Star Games did you screw my little brother?”

  
“Marc, that fucker. He promised he'd never tell you.” Kaner barely got the last word out before Eric was on him, pelting him with soft blows to his sides. It soon devolved into some kind of strange hug as Patrick wrapped both arms around Staal, meeting his hands around Eric's neck.

  
Eric stilled and Patrick smiled into the tiny hairs as the side of Staal's ear as he delivered a small kiss where shoulder met neck. “Are you ready to go back out there buddy?”

Staal slowly untangled their limbs as he smiled softly at Kane, “Yeah, bro. Let's get this sideshow over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is another part to this chapter that talks more about Seguin, Hall, Gallagher and Stamkos but its two in the morning and I want sleep cause I still gotta get up at six to go to work.


	3. Living Artifacts of a Time Long Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pat had his face powdered to the point of coughing, his lips glossed until he could barely speak and his curls moussed until they stuck to his skull like a helmet. For the last hour they had asked him in no uncertain terms to pose like a demure waif, half-naked in Under Armour two sizes too small, like a mock up of what an omega hockey player was suppose to be. Something for horny, teen alphas to jerk their knot to.

It was the faint odor that caught Kane's attention first, while everything else reeked of powdered, make-up and unused ice, the deep scent of sweat was the first real hockey smell that Pat had scented since the photo-shoot had begun.

 

But it was the raucous that followed that caught everyone's eye. Segs was the first to ramble in, Hall riding piggy-back style on his haunches. Stamkos soon followed, sliding wide of the two, as not to get caught up in their play. Gally was the last to wobble in, decked out in full goalie gear.

 

And that's when Patrick felt his face go red, as his jaw ticked in anger and embarrassment. All four younger men were wearing their full hockey gear, each representing their team with the exception of Gallagher, who was wearing logo-less, Bauer goalie gear.

 

Kaner wasn't the only one to notice the disparity, as he heard whispered swears just to his right. It could have been Eric or Jeff, both had the same right to be pissed to hell. Pat had his face powdered to the point of coughing, his lips glossed until he could barely speak and his curls moussed until they stuck to his skull like a helmet. For the last hour they had asked him in no uncertain terms to pose like a demure waif, half-naked in Under Armour two sizes too small, like a mock up of what an omega hockey player was suppose to be. Something for horny, teen alphas to jerk their knot to.

 

Staal, Carter and Bozak hadn't fared much better but they had all shrugged it off, excepting that it was just part of the deal. Another give that they had to submit to so they could play hockey as omegas.

 

It didn't seem that Segs, Hallsy, Stammer or Gally had understood those rules that were set out for all of them or just hadn't payed any mind to them. They were all sweat drenched, reeking of pure omega since none of them had to take suppressants during the off-season. Brendan was the first to reach him, his feet unsteady in goalie skates and bracing himself against Kane's shoulders to keep balance.

 

For just that moment, being face to face with Gally's exuberant expression, joy pouring out of his every pore from playing hockey, made Kane too dumbfounded to actually speak. He tried to think about the last time playing an inconsequential game of hockey made him feel that happy. He couldn't really remember.

 

“These dicks made me play goalie! Can you believe that they didn't have a goalie ready for the photo-shoot? What the hell did they expect us to do?” Gallagher huffed, between deep breaths, looking utterly exhausted. Kaner didn't envy him much. Goalies and defensemen had the hardest job on the ice, playing more minutes than anyone else and getting banged up the most for their troubles.

 

It was one of those unwritten rules in hockey, that if an omega wanted to play hockey to always sway him towards the role of forward, since most didn't think their bodies could handle the brunt it took to play on defense.

 

It didn’t surprise Kane that Gally would take the position with little complaint. He was tough for his size, tougher than Patrick at that age and given the fact that Brendan was much smaller. Analyst and reporters always seemed to harrumph the most about Gallagher's on ice play. He wasn't afraid to get in the face, push or pull down some of the biggest guys in the league. He always had some comeback on the tip of his tongue that he would deliver in the face of some raging alpha with an angelic smile on his face. Alphas fighting omegas was something that was still frowned upon but Gally was able to slither underneath some of thickest skin to the point that a few alphas had forgot their stupid, hockey code and went after him. Its exactly what Gally wanted to the ire of most of the media and the league.

 

It only made it worst that Brandon was aesthetically the perfect omega. His build was just this side of small, probably no taller than 5'7 and no heavier than 170. His mouth was a constant red and his body one long slope, only punctuated by a pert ass. Since his first game with the Habs he had most of alphas in a frenzy to make crude jokes and cruder come-ons. The media was not much better, predicting how long he would even be in the league before some alpha was able to tame him.

 

All signals were pointing to Galchenyuk. He'd been room mates with the young American since day one, adding fuel to the fire that Gally wasn't long for the league with a horny teen, alpha just in the other bed. But he had silenced all of those voices in one swift and gutsy move when he came out to the media as homo-dynamic and in a long-term relationship with another omega.

 

At first there had been an avalanche of commentators, mostly ol' timey hockey players that found themselves getting fat behind a desk, who had mourned the integrity and morality of hockey but there was nothing they could do. Nothing the league could do since being homo-dynamic wasn't illegal and Gally hadn't done anything wrong. If anything the extra pressure had upped his game, making him fight harder to prove that he deserved a spot in the lineup just as much as anyone else.

 

But it still made Pat wince internally, remembering that only a few years ago Eric had felt the same pressure and bent to the stringent demands of the Hurricanes so he could stay their captain.

 

“Stop your whining. They wanted picture of pucks going in the net. Not some little ball of hate trying to bite at everyone's ankle.” Hallsy taunted without heat, which was not unusual since nothing out of Taylor Hall's mouth could really be spiteful. He pushed at Gallagher, who quickly dived under the slight pressure, feigning an injury to his shoulder as he squirmed on the ground. Hall soon followed, heaping on top of the smaller omega and roughing him up. Kane walked over the mess of bodies and skated over to Stamkos, the oldest of the four younger guys and the maturest by a mile.

 

Kane met the taller omega's eyes and Stammer quirked an eyebrow down at Pat's attire. Kaner felt a new bash of embarrassment overcome him as he stammered for his own words. He didn't have to try for much longer as a heavy presence settled beside him. “They told us we couldn't play without a goalie. They strangled us into these get ups and told us to pout for the camera.” Eric commented in one long sigh, sounding so much older than his twenty-eight years.

 

“If we knew we could pick our own goalie, Bozie would have been in that net faster than you could say, 'No Marty. I don't want to bond with you.'” Carts sing-sung just to the other side of Kane and Patrick let out his own sigh as he watched Stammer's face go completely blank as his jaw hardened. Pat knew that Cater was pissed that these four young omegas, with a single cup between them and less years in the league were able to get exactly what they wanted while Pat and the older guys just got run over with the same old bullshit that they've had to deal with for years.

 

Cartsy was just trying to get his parting shot but even Kane knew that he had crossed a line.

Stamkos had just been a kid, fresh faced and only a few months out of his draft year when Marty St. Louis had proposed that they get bonded. Kaner doesn't know what he would do in the same situation: you're alternate captain, who had been with the team for years just asked you to bond with him in front of the whole team. Alphas don't take rejection easily and St. Louis was no exception. There has been rumbling from the media that Marty had asked Yzerman on multiple occasions that he trade Stammer to another team or trade him to the Rangers.

 

But Yzerman stood his ground, being one of the first hockey players who was in support of desegregating the NHL, and letting omegas play. Stamkos was one of the most dynamic and kind players in the league, strangely having many reporters and commentators sing his praises because of his almost demure attitude mixed with his pure love of hockey. Kane can't imagine how much courage it must have took to say no with the risk of being traded but Stammer persevered and now there are analyst that predict that in a few years he might be the captain of the Lightning. That he is a shoe-in for team Canada at the Olympics, taking Marty's spot in both positions.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you today? Did Richie not give you enough knot before you left?” Staal screeched right into Pat's ear but the jibe directed right at Carter. Patrick didn't feel like defending the asshole so he just stepped aside and let Eric give him a well deserved smack.

 

Instead, he stepped closer to Stammer, standing straighter so he could almost meet the other omega's height, he gently shook his shoulder, wishing he could shake off the hardened look on the younger man's face like an etch-a-sketch. When it didn't work he gave him a blinding smile that usually worked in most media scrums, “So I hear you got picked for team Canada's training camp.” Kane mock-whispered like he was sharing some big secret that was no secret at all. It earned him a half smile

as Stammer's face brightened. The kids was pure hockey, through and through. “Just wanna tell you that I ain't gonna take it easy on you just 'cause its your first Olympics. I'm planning on wearing that gold medal this year.”

 

Stammer pushed at his shoulder, letting out a gust of laughter as he rolled his eyes heavenward. “Guess you could say its gonna be a real omega-a-omega this Olympics.” Steven whispered before wiggling his eyebrows in Kane's direction, causing Pat to guffaw at the bad pun.

 

“Jesus, never tell another joke so long as you breathe Stammer. 'Cause that was deadly,” Hallsy mocked, as he slid in beside them. His jersey was more off than on, proving that Gally must have gotten some good licks in but Taylor Hall was a built guy. Strong and durable in a way they said omegas weren't meant to be built. “What are you losers talking about?”

 

Kaner side-eyed the bigger omega not sure if he should broach such a touchy subject but Stammer did it for him, “We were talking about my chances of making the Olympic roster. Wouldn't it be amazing if you, me, Cartsy, Segs and Staal all made the Olympic Team. That would be the most omegas who ever made any Olympic hockey team.”

 

Patrick never felt like he was the best at reading people's emotions but he could notice the slight fall of Hall's face, as he minutely shrugged his shoulders. “That's not gonna happen. The most that's ever been on an Olympic hockey team is two and that isn't gonna change anytime soon.” Kaner wished that he could object but there was still a large part of him that understood that progress was slow at best and completely halted at its worst. And only people like Gally and Stammer are pushing it forward by leaps and bounds.

 

If only Stammer could see it, “That's not possible. Staal and Carter were on the team that won gold. Segs just won a cup and you're one of the best players in the league.”

 

Hall responded with a sigh, meeting Stamkos eyes and slowly shaking his head in what Pat could only guess was dejection. “Staal hasn't made a playoff run in years. Segs just got traded and I haven't even seen the playoffs. Its pretty much just you and Carter now. Being an omega in the NHL means you've gotta be twice as great as your competition to even be considered.”

 

It always amazed Patrick how most of the media pigeonholed Hall as being some dumb omega, when he was so much smarter than they would ever give him credit for. Sure he had his moments of gleeful ignorance, smiling at the camera as he told stories about how he let all the food in his and Eberle's apartment go spoiled because he bought it just days before a long road trip. But he's always completely aware of how he comes off to the media.

 

Most journalist see him and Eberle as a perfect alpha/omega pair. They fell in love young, at World Junior, when Eberle was already an Oiler. Then Hall was drafted to the Oilers and they didn't waste time before moving in together, setting up home. But what most reporters don't notice and wouldn't eve believe is that Hall and Eberle weren't even bonded. From what Hall was willing to share with Patrick, they had spent most of World Junior making out at any conceivable time and place.

 

But then they had won gold, drunk too much champagne and Eberle had sloppily tried to reach for his belt, and Hall had stopped him. He had pushed him away and in a daze locked himself in the bathroom for the rest of the night. The next morning he sat Jordan down and laid down the facts. By then Hall had knew he had a good chance of being drafted by the Oilers. He knew that a relationship with Eberle would only end in bonding and he didn't want that. He didn't want to bond until he retired because he didn't want to risk a heat accidentally ending in kids and prematurely ending his career.

 

That's why Taylor decided that he and Ebs couldn't do it, any of it, but before he could leave Eberle had stopped him and asked the one thing that Hall had never expected.

 

_Then what if we don't bond._

 

Since then they had been able to make it work and Hall admitted at times it was tricky with heats and ruts but they were too stubborn and dedicated to let things like nature stop them. The media was none the wiser and even Pat could barely smell that Hall wasn't bonded. Kane wondered if Cartsy, someone who had been bonded since he was a teenage could even smell the difference.

 

“Okay, guys! Let's see if we could get a few group shots.” The director bellowed and Patrick could tell his patience was wearing thin with all the rowdy hockey players. Kaner didn't hesitate, hastily pulling guys up and towards him, until they all almost resembled a cohesive group. Patrick wanted to end this nightmare of a photo-shoot possibly as bad as anyone else. “Great! Can we get Kane and Seguin right in the middle? Perfect.”

 

Segs pumped their shoulders, throwing him a wink, “Guess they want the party boys front and center.” Patrick gave a weak laugh, knowing that the joke was getting old but not begrudging Segs the effort. For the longest time analyst, media member, reporters and even different organizations within the league had compared Kane's Madison to Segs partying during the 2013 playoffs. Had lamented how Kane chose to right his errors by bonding to Toews, where Segs had refused.

 

And for some reason Patrick felt like Segs was the one who won in that comparable. When the Bruins had been eliminated in game six it didn't take long until stories about Seguin's nightly partying became the centerpiece of commentators' discussions. They said his lack of performance was directly a result of him going out each night, drinking and having sex with random alphas.

 

But Kaner knew the truth. Sure, Segs had partied after winning rounds and probably had drank too much but he'd only ever had sex with one alpha, Marchand. Seguin had been pretty much head over heels when it came to the pest since he first became a Bruin. Marchand hadn't seen it the same way. He was more than willing to have drunken sex with Segs but he was also more than willing to have sex with any hot omega who offered.

 

That's why Patrick was shocked when the Bruin gave Tyler the same ultimatum that the Blackhawks gave Kane. Mary Marchand or get traded. It wasn't that part that surprised Kaner, but the fact that Seguin said he would rather be traded. And he was, to the the Dallas Stars only a few weeks later. When Patrick had asked him why, Tyler had just shook his head, sad but without regret.

 

_Marchand would never be faithful and if my own team doesn't think I'm worth more than that, then its not a team I want to be part of._

 

Just for a second Tyler's words made Patrick take pause, and wonder what the Blackhawks thought he was worth. Trapping him inside his own room, followed by a forced, quick bond. He shook off the idea before it could gather any traction in his head. His team just wasn't just Wirtz and Bowman but Sharpy, Keith, Seabs, everyone and Jonny. 

 

Jonny, who had never treated him differently since the first time he locked his knot deep inside of Pat. Who never hesitated to pass him the puck, or think that he should be the one cleaning just because he saw Patrick at his most submissive. But Patrick still couldn't help but feel a certain fragility in the balance beam that was his and Jonny's bond because Pat knew deep down that any freedom he had was the freedom Jonny was willing to give him. 

 

As he looked around at the forced and genuine smiles that the camera-lens captured he couldn't help but notice the same unbalanced power. But he couldn't begrudge Segs, Hall, Stammer or Gally because they had fought tooth and nail to gain every inch of power they had. And maybe he, Cartsy, Bozie and Staal were all just living relics from the not so distant past. A reminder of how far they had all come. A warning of how far they still need to go. 

 

 


	4. Break the Foundation (Build it anew)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wondered if it had been during a game or in the locker room? He tried to imagine if Patrick had been worked up, bouncing off of checks and skating through defensemen like they were the cones laid out on the side of the road, giving off pheromones and not noticing the slick between his legs as it mingled with his sweat. If in the locker room any other players had gotten the privilege of being tangled in Kaner's embrace during celebration? If they had took notice and not said anything as they got hard from being in such close contact to an omega on the cusp of his first heat?
> 
> Jonny had brought himself off in equal amount of anger and arousal, a need to posses something that shouldn't belong to some closed minded alpha but didn't belong to him either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has now been edited. Sorry for the earlier errors. I was sleep deprived.

There was nothing comparable, so utterly consuming and mind altering than an alpha's first rut. At least, that's what Jonny had always believed but he had never been mated to an omega until two weeks ago. And there was that dissonance that had plagued him, maybe for a month or maybe for the past eleven years.

 

Patrick Kane had never been just any omega. From the first day he stepped into the Junior Flyer's locker room in flip-flops, a halo of matted curls, smelling like heat suppressants and tangy, sweet sweat and up to the moment that Jonny had fit his hand around Kaner's ankle, readying to take the brunt of his anger as the omega radiated desperation and fear.

 

It should have been little surprise to Toews that Patrick had punched an early rut out of him just two weeks after they had been bonded, especially since Jonny had always credited his first rut to the young omega.

 

Jonny had been just shy of his fourteenth birthday, determined in his single-mindedness when it came to all things hockey, while other alphas were sprouting their first knots, swaggering around the showers, hips cocked and thrusting their junk in betas and undeveloped alphas faces like a trophy that all the others had yet to win and in some cases would never win.

 

And its not like Toews hadn't understood how important it was to be an alpha, pouring out testosterone and endorphins on the ice. It gave young alphas an edge when playing in juniors, a wider berth when all the other players knew how dangerous it was when skating with the unrestrained strength of alphas who had almost no control of new muscles and blossoming, predator bodies.

 

Jonny had heard all the stories of alphas fresh from their first rut, more blood in their knots than their brains, playing their first game back from spending a week being locked or contained in their rooms. It didn't take much, maybe a few jostles, a stick between their skates and they were off. It didn't matter if it was after the whistle or if they were still in play, all that building anger from being denied a mate, a well lubed orifice to sink their newly formed knot, coming to a precipice, finding their outlet in another player.

 

The unlucky souls, usually other preteen or teen boys struggling to get the raging alphas off of them, screeching through bloody noses and mouths. And the punishment for such brutality was nonexistent because hockey was built on the foundation of alphas, their blood and sweat forging the ice that every player skated on. Every ice rink was tilted in the favor of any alpha, his show of unrestrained animal-ism was the standard for every hockey player.

 

Jonny had thought himself lucky to be born of a beta and omega marriage, with the ability to see the other side of the fogged glass. He was raised not only in his mother's native tongue but her omega idealism that everyone should have an equal chance in a world where being an alpha still put you at the top of the food chain. And maybe he had lucked out in another sense because while he could still condemn anyone who floated through life with archaic beliefs while he took to higher ground, he was still a benefactor of that foundation.

 

The thing was, Jonny had heard all those stories but hadn't seen it in person until it had happened to him. It had been minutes before the Junior Flyers were going into the third, down 3-1 and Pat had just come back from the trainer's room. They had a special trainer at hand for omegas and in their case just for Patrick since he was the only one on the team. Some of the other players had whispered a few useless gripes that most of them had to wait to have a trainer stretch out their muscles and shake out all their built up lactic acid while Kaner got a private beta, trainer, but none of them made too big a stink as long as Patrick kept putting pucks in the back of the net.

 

The first thing Jonny noticed when Pat had walked into their shared locker room was his limp. He had been favoring his right leg when they had left the ice and now it was was more pronounced. Watching him slowly walk back to his cubbie, gingerly sitting and grimacing as he put on his skates awoke some deep, urge in Tazer that he hadn't known existed. A fierce emotion that seemed to override his usual composure. He wished he could control it in the same amount that he wished he could protect Patrick from anything and everything.

 

He wanted to walk across the short distance of the locker room and tell Kane to untie his skates, go to his private shower and wash off the stink of every alpha who thought he was good enough to collide with Patrick, check him and rough him up. But knowing what little he had gathered from the few weeks of playing with Kane, he was sure that such a statement would earn him a punch in the nose rather than the gratitude of the omega.

 

The coach beat Jonny to the punch anyway, kneeling down eye level with the small omega and asking him if he was good to play for the third. “We should just wrap him in bubble wrap. Snail trails should be out there cheering us on, not asking us to give them the puck,” Bruce, a fourteen year old, second line defenseman whispered, which was loud as any megaphone in such a tiny locker room.

 

Jonny watched as the entire locker room rumbled in either agreement or annoyance, but Pat just shook his head, face hardening and jaw setting in refusal. If there had even been an inkling of inner doubt that he couldn't finish the game it was gone then and Jonny tried to hold back a growl. His anger marked towards Bruce and every asshole who was gonna force Pat to play injured and prove he was more than just a 'snail trail.'

 

The phrase itself made Toews beat red with fury. Any young omega, a few months or years off of their first heat were shamed for getting wet, throwing out their pheromones at inopportune times but much like alphas off of their first rut they couldn't control it. The only difference was that alphas could go around, terrorizing others with their newly formed knot, while omegas were ridiculed in the most derogatory ways if they even left a small wet spot on the seat of a chair.

 

Pat had been called the same by his own locker room and by apposing teams, which pissed Jonny off every-time he had to bare witness. Everyone could tell that as an omega Pat had been an early bloomer. He gave off the sickly, sweet smell of heat suppressants, something other players had gossiped he had been on since he was twelve.

 

It was something of a pattern that a lot of coaches had seen developing. Omegas who played hockey, who spent most of their time in the locker room around riled up alphas going into or coming of their first rut were more likely to go into early heats, some predicted as early as eleven. Maybe, in the darkness of his own room, with the door locked and his hand circling his still unformed knot, Jonny had let his mind wander, had pictured what might have set Patrick Kane off.

 

He wondered if it had been during a game or in the locker room? He tried to imagine if Patrick had been worked up, bouncing off of checks and skating through defensemen like they were the cones laid out on the side of the road, giving off pheromones and not noticing the slick between his legs as it mingled with his sweat. If, in the locker room any other player had gotten the privilege of being tangled in Kaner's embrace during celebration? If they had took notice and not said anything as they got hard from being in such close contact to an omega on the cusp of his first heat?

 

Jonny had brought himself off in equal amounts of anger and arousal, a need to posses something that shouldn't belong to some closed minded alpha but didn't belong to him either. But those were thoughts saved for locked doors, tempered down by fierce restraint and never meant to see the light of day. Feelings never meant to be brought in the locker room with one period left and Patrick giving off such a wounded scent mere inches away from Jonny.

 

It wasn't until fifteen minutes in, after they were able to tie the game with two, go-ahead goals by Kaner that the shit hit the fan and all of Jonny's heated up emotions came to a boiling point. Toews could tell that Pat was going for the natural hattrick, he had built up a barrier between him and everyone else on the ice, finding his spots and not letting anyone take away any chance he was given. He was playing like a man with something to prove and Jonny wasn't a step behind, serving him smooth, across the ice passes and assisting on both goals.

 

If Pat felt like he needed to show up everyone on the ice than Jonny was there to make sure no one stopped him, stepping in on hits and checking any player who looked at Kaner the wrong way. They were playing an away game and the crowd full of riled drunks and pissed parents made their presence known, chanting 'Candy-Kane' rudely, building up Jonny's ire with every syllable.

 

That's when the grievance had been committed. Jonny had just passed the face off circle and had brought two forwards with him, both distracted by the puck that neither noticed Pat angling towards the crease until it was too late and Toews had slid it across to Kaner's tape. The goalie went down to cover and all Pat had to do was elevate top-shelf and it was in the back of the net.

 

It was all in slow motion from there. Jonny was gliding across the ice, Pat was turned towards him, pointing at him with a wide grin cutting across his face. Jonny could only watch as an apposing defenseman hammered his stick right into Pat's back, causing both of them to lose their balance and go down. Toews was the first one there, watching as the bigger alpha grappled with Pat on the ground, groping at his sides and thighs, touching and abusing something that wasn't his.

 

It was all blurred and red from there. Jonny didn't come back to his own until he was in the shower room, with ice-cold sprays rushing down on his near naked body. Two player were holding him down while he fought them tooth and nail.

 

There was an energy coursing through him that at the time had been nearly incomparable, it was that half second after an OT goal comes off of your stick but before it crossed the line during a championship but times a thousand. It was the best and worst feeling in the world. It left Jonny wanting more and as he struggled, undeterred by his teammates, he knew exactly what that more was and that he wasn't that far away. He could smell him, his scent was so much stronger and he could practically taste Patrick's unique odor of suppressants, sweat, spit and ice from the shower.

 

From the distance he could see his coach talking to his father, a beta who stared shocked at his own son's behavior. In that moment Jonny couldn't help but snare at his misguided father, who had never watched the animalistic nature of an alphas first rut first hand. Jonny pitied him in that instant because nothing in Jonny's life had ever felt more freeing and exhilarating than this new urge, like the predator at the top of the food chain that he always knew he could be. He felt like a super-hero coming into some new power, the ability to dominate every lesser being. And all Toews wanted was his Patrick, what was rightfully his after protecting the tiny omega game in and game out, after giving him goals that should have rightfully been his and all he wanted was what he had earned after showing Kane that there was no better alpha out there on the ice.

 

“We've talked to the officials. The other boy was hurt pretty badly, a few face lacerations but we explained that Jonny went into rut and couldn't control what he did out there,” Jonny could hear his coach, calm but radiating worry, “There won't be any future punishment besides the game misconduct. The next game will be in a week and if the rut is over by then he'll be allowed to play.”

 

All too suddenly both his father and coach were edging closer, a trainer kneeling beside him with a needle in his hand, which caused Jonny to struggle anew. “Is the tranquilizer really necessary, though?” Those were the last words Jonny heard before everything went blurry again, but this time in calming sprays of blue.

 

Jonny had spent his rut week in an agonizing limbo of unsatisfactory orgasms that achieved nothing. His knot pulsing when given enough blood to resurrect, while Jonny pounded at the walls of his room begging for a mate to end his suffering and for the arms of his mother to comfort him through the discord. He was given neither, just food and water as he screamed 'Patrick' and 'mère' in equal measures.

 

Going back to the locker room, to the next game for the Junior Flyers brought insurmountable feelings of shame. After the rut had settled and he was back to his own mind, the only mark his new change leaving was a fully, formed knot, all he could think about was how he had lost control.

 

He had become a base creature, letting hundreds of eyes watch as he transformed into the animal his mother had warned him about so many times. His mother, who had come into his room at the end of that long week and had gathered him into her arms like he was a small child once again. He had clutched onto her as he cried unbidden. She had shushed all his whispered apologies and wiped the tears from his cheeks with her sleeve. She had told him everything would be okay but after the commotion he had made he couldn't believe her, even if he wished to.

 

His team mates didn't make it any easier. In the shower they poked at him, taking long glances over at his knot and giving him thumbs up. They patted him on the head and punched him on the shoulder, telling him that he was the reason they won the competition, advanced to the next round. It was all a show of camaraderie but every smile and congratulations made him want to scream, remind them that he could have cost them the game because he left his hormones unchecked, that the only reason they won was because of Patrick Kane.

 

Kane, who they had ridiculed for getting injured, who they had called weak and now they are dismissing him again, reminding Toews how in the throws of his rut he went after Kane. After he had beat that apposing player to a bloody pulp he had stalked towards the small omega, tried to make him submit right there on the ice.

 

“Yeah, brother. You almost had him. Hand to God, if we didn't have to jump in you woulda really given it to him good.” Bruce caught him in a headlock in the locker room, unknowingly taunting him with every word. They saw Toews coming into his dynamic, his alpha-hood as some sort of welcoming, letting Jonny into the big boys club, that he wanted no part of.

 

That's when Toews got his first glimpse of Patrick in a week and he would of understood if the omega wanted nothing to do with him. He'd had time to build up that one memory in his head, play it on a loop and judge himself irredeemable. Kaner had no reason to see the event any differently. That's why it confused Jonny when Patrick came right up to him and pushed Bruce away, asking Jonny if he could talk to him alone.

 

The locker room was full of whispered 'oohs' and 'go get him' but Jonny ignored it as he followed Patrick out to the tunnel where locker room met ice. His socked feet became soaked as he felt himself sweat. He wondered if Patrick wanted privacy so he could yell at him or punch him, both things that seemed like the correct response after what Jonny did.

 

What he hadn't expected was those two arms to tangle around his neck and to be pulled into a tight but chaste hug. It only lasted a moment but it was long enough for Jonny to sigh in relief and take in the intoxicating smell that was so unique to Patrick.

 

“I just wanted to say thanks for having my back out there,” Pat whispered, blushing as he looked up at Jonny. “All game you were giving me the puck. You weren't worried that I was too injured or too small or too soft to put it in the back of the net.”

 

Jonny stared at him dumbfounded, wondering how Patrick couldn't see how he was the best player on the team by a mile. “You were the only guy out there who wasn't afraid to pick his spot and make the best plays. Its kinda hard not to give you the puck.”

 

That earned him a wide grin that made the tips of Jonny's ears red. “Well, you're kinda the only guy out there that believes that I could do it.” Kaner punched at his shoulder, ending their talk, as he walked back to the locker room but before he opened the double doors he threw over his shoulder, “Good fight, Tazer. Didn't think you had it in you.”

 

Jonny felt his own blush rising, resolving within himself that given the chance he would make Kaner smile like that again.

 

It was that resolve that forced Jonny into the master-bathroom, in the apartment that he now shared with Patrick. He locked the door behind him and put the hamper in front of it for good measure, as he slowly crumpled to the floor. The temperature in the house was kept near freezing, a habit he picked up from his mother and in that moment he thanked her, as his heated face touched the ice cold tiles.

 

Jonny could be accused of many crimes. Playing the role of the defensive forward when he should be scoring more goals, buying the rookies drinks when they were nowhere near twenty-one, getting aroused when Patrick had confessed after too many beers that he and Eric Staal had made out after the 2010 Olympics, but what you could never accuse Jonny of was forcing his knot onto someone who didn't want it just because he was in rut.

 

He and Patrick had been bonded for less than two weeks and there had been certain things that Jonny had not been prepared for. He had grown use to Patrick's smell over the years, sharing a hotel room and having his scent marking every surface. Toews thought he would be more than ready to share a living space with the omega. He knew all his bad habits, taking an hour or more in the bathroom, staying up later than advisable, watching horrible Disney movies but he wasn't properly prepped for the scent of Patrick without his suppressants.

 

Sure, he had visited the Kane household a few times over the summer, took in mild scent of something new and earthy but it had always been covered by the overwhelming smell of Patrick's three alpha sisters. They would growl at him, bumping his shoulders anytime they would pass him, warning him without words that he would be in some major trouble if he ever hurt their older brother. He took it in and accepted it, expecting nothing less from three alphas who had to watch their omega brother get roughed up by other alphas for a living.

 

But it was something completely different having Patrick's unsuppressed scent lingering on every surface, mingling with his own in a way that went straight to his dick. It was earthy but sweet and crisp, like an unwashed apple, basic in the way it coursed through Jonny like water though the gullet. It left him passing the hours in a daze, watching Kaner as he did ordinary Kaner things like make cheese sandwiches and cry over old, war movies. But now it was all disjointed, strange like the cameras at ice level being moved just an inch from the normal frame and capturing something completely different.

 

How had Patrick shared a room with Jonny for all these years, taking the full brunt of Toews pheromones and be so unaffected but a couples of weeks with Kaner's scent trapped in his olfactory and he was in a full, blown rut, locking himself in his bathroom to keep Pat safe. They had mated once and that was to cement their bond but Jonny would rather cut off his own dick before he forced Patrick to take care of every whim of his knot.

 

“Tazer, hurry up in their. I gotta pee,” came a plea at the door, followed by a staccato of knocks.

 

Before Jonny knew what he was doing his hand was going for the doorknob, his brain short-circuiting as his nose reminded him that the sweet scent on the other side of the door was his bonded mate. That the tangy smell of dirt and apple had tasted just as good as he always imagined it would. That his teeth had fit perfectly at the back of Patrick's neck as he took his first bite.

 

It took more restraint than Jonny thought he had to pull a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde and pull his finger away from the doorknob with the strength of his other hand. “Pat, there is a lock on the outside of this door. I had them installed when I first moved in. Don't ask anymore questions until you lock this fucking door!” The scratch of the bolt lock going through the wooden frame was deafening and Jonny let out a sigh of relief as he sagged to the ground. Toews took a moment to enjoy the silence and let the calm wash over his frayed nerves.

 

“Jonny, you got me worried here. If there's like a body in the bathtub you should just let me call Bowman,” Pat whispered through an onset of nervous laughter, “He always takes care of all my dead hooker in the bathtub needs.”

 

“No dead hookers, Pat.” Jonny wouldn't have laughed even if he could build up enough energy to do so because that's just how lame Pat's jokes were. He just grunted, letting out a pitiful whine as he felt his knot pulsing between his thighs. Through all of the trauma it had yet to relinquish its hold over Toews' body. Erect and full of blood, it was letting Jonny know who was boss and that it wouldn't go away until it was satiated. “I went into rut. Its been an hour. Only twenty-three hours and six more days to go.” Jonny let out another whimper as those words passed his lips, the realty of his situation finally put into words.

 

“Uhh, shouldn't I be doing something to help you out there, Tazer?” Pat yelled, knocking again in case Jonny hadn't heard him and how could Jonny not hear him. The most basic, animal part of his brain was fine-tuned to react to every word that left his omega's lips. It was difficult not to hear him at night, separated by four walls as Pat moaned softly, probably getting himself off with his own fingers thrust deep in his wet, tight hole. “You can leave, Pat. Go to Sharpy's for a week and come back when I got this handled.”

 

It burned Jonny something awful to tell his omega to go away, to be housed and cared for by another alpha for a week and the only thing keeping the animalistic part of him from roaring in outrage was the knowledge that Sharp was a well settled alpha, with his own omega and child.

 

“And you're gonna do what after I leave?” Patrick grunted, in something Jonny couldn't confuse for anything but anger. “Are you gonna prowl around town like all your other ruts? Pulling omegas at bars and bringing them back here to knot.”

 

That had been Jonny's MO for the longest, go into a rut and spend his week rubbing his pheromones against willing omegas in dark bars. Choosing short blonds with athletic builds and rubbing his clothed knot against their asses as they danced. Whispering the most obscene things into their ears as he rubbed their thighs, smelling their wetness and guaranteeing that he would have them locked on his knot before morning.

 

But it wasn't like that anymore. When he bonded to Patrick that was it for him. No more one night stands or relationships that lasted as long as a season. Even if it wasn't for the league and media sticking their collective noses into every aspect of their bonding, Jonny's own need as an alpha, as a man who had loved Patrick since he was thirteen would stop him from straying from their bond. “No, Patrick. No prowling. I'm just gonna lie here until I hopefully die of dehydration.”

 

And that's when the knocking got louder. If Jonny didn't know any better he would think that Pat was trying to knock the door down. “Stop being a dumb ass, JT. You've got the faucet right there if you need water.” Jonny harrumphed in response, too out of it for any witty comebacks. “But, no. Seriously, you should let me in so we could deal with this together.”

 

That made Jonny's eyes shoot wide open, as he stared at the door hoping his x-ray vision would kick in at any moment so he could see what the hell Pat thought he was doing on the other side of that door. “You're not dumb, Pat. You know what will happen if you come in here.”

 

It was then that Jonny heard the bolt snick open and he surged back, keeping his distance, not wanting to take the chance to see what his hormones might do next. “I'm your bonded, Jonny. Your omega. This is kinda my job.” Pat whispered, and Jonny just shook his head because this is the exact opposite of what the logical part of his brain wanted.

 

“I've worked very hard, Pat and put in the years to keep myself from doing this to you,” Jonny growled, folding in on himself, knees tight to chest and arms clutching his knees. “And now your just giving up. Serving yourself on a platter.”

 

There was a bang at the door, something too heavy to be a hand. Pat was kicking at the door, “What the hell does that suppose to mean? I'm not surrendering nothing to you. The league put me on my back, not you. You were there with me. You told me we were in this together. At the very least, I owe you this much.”

 

Jonny sighed, thinking back to so many years ago when in the flush of his first rut he thought that Patrick owed him for being a good team mate and that Pat should pay in flesh and submission. It may have taken him eleven years to fully understand but now Jonny was assured that Pat owed him nothing. “When I was thirteen you caused me to go into my first rut.”

 

“I know,” Pat answered simply, quietly and how could he not know, the entire arena had been witness to that fact.

 

“During that week I thought the worst things of you. That you should be under me, obeying me, a slave to my knot. If given the chance that I would force you to never play hockey again, and not risk all those other alphas touching and hurting what was mine. I don't want that anymore.” Jonny whispered the last few words, lost in his own memories.

 

“You don't have to worry about that, Jonny,” Patrick laughed, humorless. “With an omega like me all you're ever gonna get is complete and utter disobedience. That's why I'm not leaving until you open this damn door.”

 

It took a moment, but Jonny found enough momentum to mop himself off the floor and bound to the door. It didn't stop any of his inner-turmoil, but when he pushed the door wide, seeing Patrick's face was like a life-raft thrown to a drowning man, he could breathe again. “You gotta promise me this is gonna be different, Patrick,” Jonny pleaded, feeling vulnerable in his radiance of Pat's immense strength.

 

Pat grinned in response, that mile long, dimple pinching smile that Jonny never wanted to see go. Patrick enveloped him in a hug, Jonny's senses calming as he gathered in the dirt, fresh scent of apples. “This is already different, Jonny. This is just for you and me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex scene..... soon.


	5. Save the Sinner (Burn its Wings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny remembered watching Patrick at his draft, the analysts commenting how Kane's playing style was a perfect compliment to Jonny's own. That had been the first time their names had been paired together. Before either had played their first game as Blackhawks - analysts and media had seen what a perfect fit they would be next to each other, off and on the ice.

 

 

Conference rooms, with their long white tables and stiff chairs had always made Johnny uncomfortable. When signing his first two contracts he personally asked for both to go down in the coach's personal office, first Savard and then Quenneville. There were many perks to being the future of a franchise and making tiny business demands was one of them.

 

But such liberties didn't extend to staging the second coming of Sodom and Gomorrah in Madison, Wisconsin. Jonathan hadn't experienced it himself, he couldn't even point out Wisconsin on a map but it was a shared sin, transferable by incompetence. In the eyes of the media, of the pudgy men who judged players by meters of good stick and charts of compete level - Patrick's indiscretions couldn't be pinned on his own misgivings.

 

_What do you expect from an Omega given no monitors, rules or moral foundation?_

 

No, Omegas were just fertile fields for Alphas to plant their seeds. What was sewn and grown lied in their hands, and if a bad seed was planted then the fault lied with the Alphas. Bettman hadn't made his phone call to Patrick, tongue full of admonishment. He had called Rocky Wirtz, Stan Bowman, Joel Quenneville and Jonathan Toews. It wasn't every day that a captain of a NHL team got a personal call from the commissioner but it was enough to force Jonny away from the safe haven of his summer cabin and into the shark’s den of Rocky Wirtz conference room.

 

It wasn't a mock up either - a room full of suits with files in hand. It was just Wirtz, Bowman, Coach Q and Jonny. None of them settled for pleasantries, just four slumped figures in jackets or sweaters and wrinkled pants. Coffee mugs marred the surface of the pristine wooden table and Rocky ran caffeine jittery fingers through his usually pristine hair. That's were it began.

 

“Richard Mulligan Jr.” Bowman threw out, the name entering into the universe, into Jonny's lexicon for the first time. He instantly rejected it and the person it must belong to. Anyone who had the nickname Dick was a pretentious bastard, who spent his Saturdays playing leisure tennis and his Sundays playing his secretary.

 

“Too young. We need someone with a firm hand. Someone who could settle Patrick,” Wirtz sighed out and Jonathan took offense. For years Jonny had taken that upon himself, stopping Pat from accepting that third drink from a kind stranger, helping him inject himself full of suppressants into the fatty part of his hip and bringing him down from the high of a game when all he wanted to do was fuck the closest Alpha. Jonny knew every ebb and flow of Patrick's emotions and no trust fund baby could soothe him better than Jonathan.

 

“Jeffrey Michael Hanson,” Wirtz tried. Jonny tried the name on his tongue and the words turned to ash. Anyone with three names was a monster. That long, dark figure whom hid behind shadows and doorways. He was frigid and calm in public but with a cruel streak a mile long when left alone with his mate. Suddenly, the image of this harsh figure squeezing on the fingers of Pat's perpetually injured hand, slapping faded, hockey bruises until they bloomed anew flashed through Jonny's mind.  

 

“He just turned forty-five. The media is gonna see him for the straw man he is. We need someone that looks like he could fit next to Patrick,” Quenneville rebuffed, his voice gruff and soothing to Jonny's frayed nerves. Jonny remembered watching Patrick at his draft, the analysts commenting how Kane's playing style was a perfect compliment to Jonny's own. That had been the first time their names had been paired together. Before either had played their first game as Blackhawks - analysts and media had seen what a perfect fit they would be next to each other, off and on the ice. They had done countless interviews, photo-shoots and puff pieces together - the media eating it up.

 

_There is chemistry between Kane and Toews that you can't just manufacture. Maybe it is their dynamics working perfectly in sync with another._

 

Jonny was the last person to believe in any of the mumbo-jumbo that came with hockey. The superstitions and rituals only worked until it didn't and then it became a problem. But dynamics were a completely different ballpark, with science that went straight over Jonny's head. Understanding how different pheromones reacted to each other, clicked in the olfactory and sent signals to the brain - causing players to transform their game to new levels was just biology. But when Jonny was out on the ice with Pat he felt it in his every fiber - waves of stress or confidence coming off of Patrick - signaling to Jonny when to press forward or play the boards. It made Jonny realize how their bodies and their dynamics fit so seamlessly together.  

 

“Sammy Ranger,” Quenneville announced, banging his fist on the table like a judge's mallet, with finality. And Jonny didn't have to conjure up an image of an Alpha because he knew Sammy. He was a jovial Alpha, just shy of his mid-thirties. He worked with the coaching staff analyzing play-by-plays. He worked hard, sometimes pulling all nighters to make portfolios of goalies that they had never played against. He had been a defenseman up to Junior when he had blown out his knee, giving him a dignified limp. He had light brown hair, a ginger beard and Patrick had brought him coffee once. 

 

Kaner had played possibly his worst game against the Oilers and he had been fuming out by his locker - pissed off at his own poor performance. Sammy had come in - all 6'2 striding towards Patrick and he had knelt gingerly with his bad knee beside him. Offering to make an in depth video of Pat's weaknesses. To make a play-by-play of where he had turned over the puck a time too many and where he should have dumped the puck instead of skating it in. 

 

There weren't many ways to get under the armor that Pat wore to protect himself from ridicule but one way to get below those hardened plates was to have his back and treat him like an equal. Sammy had told him his faults but let Pat know that they were all fixable and that he would help him. That's all it really took and Jonny watched as Kaner gave the Alpha an ear-to-ear grin, leaning his head closer for privacy.

 

It had sent a jolt of something ugly and messy through Jonathan in that moment but it had passed after a couple of days. Now, all those feelings seemed to reemerge because Jonny could see Patrick fitting seamlessly with the older Alpha. He could easily imagine them laughing over a couple of beers, impatiently kissing in the elevator up to Pat's apartment and Kaner's thighs molding against Sammy's hips as they bonded. Maybe their wedding would be full of laughter as they smashed cake into each other’s faces and cheesed for the camera. Maybe Pat would easily settle his wayward urges for this alpha, submit and let him sew his seed in Pat's belly.

 

“Ranger's perfect,” Bowman conceded after a beat, throwing his well-chewed pen on the table. The creases in his face softened as he sighed in relief. Pat had lived with the Bowman family as a rookie and Stan had taken to treating him like his own child - sometimes to his detriment. He had coddled and put him on the same pedestal that he had placed his two Omega children on and it had possibly hit him the hardest when Patrick had fallen from such heights. Showing up half-naked in Dead Spin. Showing everyone he was less than perfect.

 

“We'll call him in immediately. There really isn't any time to waste.” Rocky commanded, pressing buttons on his phone like a puppet master pulling strings, controlling every movement, every faith of his subordinates. And that's when Jonny snapped out of his daze. For the longest he had been quiet, loathe contributing to the barbarianism of arranging this bonding. Agree to the submission of his teammate and one of his best friends.  

 

“No, we can't do this. I don't care what Pat did. We can't just force his hand like this.” Jonny didn't know he was yelling but as he heard his voice bounce off the walls he resolved _in for a penny, in for a pound_ and he stood from his chair, straightening his back, feeling his pheromones radiate from his being like a second armor. “I'm not gonna let you do this to him.”

 

The three men looked up at Jonny, shocked into silence for a moment until Q stood and gently squeezed Jonathan's shoulder. He used similar tactics on the bench when Toews was riled up, taking too many dumb penalties. “Son, where not trying to hurt Pat. We let him go into the off-season off kilter. We are all responsible because we didn't protect him from himself and now we're just trying to fix it before its too late. Before Pat's career is too tarnished for him to play in this league.”

 

And it was that sentiment that bothered Jonny, had kept him on edge since the first photo had shown up on the Internet. Since the first article had been written. Pat had been in a bad way after they were eliminated in the first round. He had noticed Patrick go quiet and turn in on himself. But Jonathan had done nothing, too caught up in his own failures and still angry with the entire team for not being better.

 

He couldn't muster a few moments to take Pat aside and tell him how amazing he had played in Jonny's absence. How the team fell together and it wasn't all on Patrick. As a captain and an Alpha it was his job to guide his lost teammate - his Omega through that minefield of self-loathing and disparity. Jonny had let Pat down but he wouldn't do it again.

 

“I'll do it. I'll bond with Pat.” Jonny whispered to the room at large and the silence was audible. They were at a stalemate and none of them wanted to make the first move so Jonathan did it for them.

 

“The media, the analysts - they've all wanted this for the longest. Toews and Kane, an Alpha and Omega paired together since we entered this franchise, into this league. This is the only natural course for our relationship. Its already been written in stone. Why not mark it in flesh?” And Jonny felt if he could only say those words with enough determination that they would come to fruition.

 

 


	6. If you can't save yourself (Then save the one you love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Segsy, this better be important? Tazer’s knot is stretching me and if you’re just drunk dialing I’m gonna kick your flat-ass.”
> 
> “I caused Chubbs to go into an early Rut. His next cycle isn’t supposed to be until American Thanksgiving. Everyone told me not to get too close. That if another Boston incident happened its gonna be a PR nightmare. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be shipped off again.”

 

 

Toews was knot deep – pulsing into him when he heard the fifth ring. Kane sighed, combing sweat off his temple and into his damp curls – feeling them stick up at weird angles. He clamped down on Johnny, settling a gentle hand on his Alpha’s chest as he groaned from below him. Pat used it as leverage and lifted himself off of Johnny’s lap. Wincing as Jon’s knot pulled with him - whispering his apologies as he heard pained whimpers from below. 

 

Johnny was too far-gone at that point. He’d already spent himself and now they were just waiting for his knot to shrink but it had the side effect of making Jon a mindless mess of growls and grunts until they were untied. The primitive part of his brain taking over – telling him to protect his Omega until his seed was deep in his belly.

 

Usually, Kane was more than down for the ride – letting that primordial part of his brain takeover and submit to his Alpha. But the fifth missed call from Seguin’s ringtone was enough to set off alarm bells.

 

Maybe it was that primal part of him – wanting to nurture a younger Omega – knowing that five calls this late must mean that he was in some type of trouble. It was that nagging thought that had Kane reaching for his phone as he settled his Alpha into a quiet trance.

 

“Segsy, this better be important? Tazer’s knot is stretching me and if you’re just drunk dialing I’m gonna kick your flat-ass.”

 

“I caused Chubbs to go into an early Rut.” Came the manic reply from the other end – along with gasping as Seguin caught his breath. “His next cycle isn’t supposed to be until American Thanksgiving. Everyone told me not to get too close. That if another Boston incident happened its gonna be a PR nightmare. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be shipped off again.”

 

The whine in Tyler’s voice was guttural and just this side of tears. It was a broken sound – a cry out from a distressed Omega. Loud enough to have Johnny at alert, eyes wide and grasping at Pat’s hips – making sure his Omega was unharmed.

 

“Calm down. Its Seguin.” Pat reassured Jonny, holding tight to the back of his neck before he panicked. Toews’ gave him enough of a reprieve to focus back on Tyler.

 

“Where is Jamie right now? Are you in the same room?” Patrick tried to keep the tinge of fear out of his voice. Knowing that even without his hormones affecting Seguin that any distress could cause the younger Omega to go into a fit of hysteria. 

 

“Jordie tried to hold him back but it was too dangerous. Jordie’s an Alpha. If he stayed in the house I don’t know what Jamie would have done. I locked myself in Jamie’s room. He’s been prowling outside this door for the past hour. He hasn’t tried to break it down but he became incoherent two hours ago.”

 

Patrick felt his heart rate spike – replaying the scenario in his head. It was every cautionary video he watched in high school. Setting that fear in teenagers – conditioning them to worry that any gesture, glance or behavior could set an Alpha off and it would be their fault for leading them on. For being a knot tease.

 

“Tyler, do you or Jordie know anyone? Someone who could get something to put Jamie down for the night?” Patrick knew he had to choose every word wisely. Alpha tranquilizers were highly illegal and anyone who bought them could be arrested. Most of society still believed that an Alpha’s Rut was their right and that stopping it with controlled substances was infringing on their First Amendment. He wasn’t even sure how Tyler would react to it.

 

“I can’t Pat. That’s not right. That’s wrong. I couldn’t do that.” Seguin’s voice was shaky, words mumbled but his meaning was loud and clear. Patrick sighed to himself, feeling Johnny’s knot finally give and ease out of him. He wish it brought him some type of comfort but there wasn’t any knowing that his friend would prefer to be raped than break some barbaric law.

 

A heated hand against his cheek snapped his attention down – where his Alpha – where Johnny was coming back to himself like a man wading through the undertow. Struggling to comeback to land but Pat reached for him – anchoring him with a form hand. If he was going to get Tyler and Jamie through this clusterfuck he would need Johnny.

 

“Welcome back to the land of the living. Sorry to cut this short but I’m gonna need your help.” Patrick untangled himself from Jon – propping himself up on their pillows and pulling his knees towards his chest. He didn’t need his Alpha to get distracted. “Johnny’s gonna help us Segs.”

 

For his part, Johnny shook himself off – stretching worn muscles as he planted two knees on the bed. He looked at Pat for the first time in hours with clear eyes. Patrick put the phone on speaker, holding it in the space that separated them.

 

“Chubb’s in Rut. Tyler caused it and now he’s trapped in Jamie’s bedroom. Benn’s on the other side.” Johnny’s eyes shot wide - mouth opening automatically but Pat put a finger to his thin lips. Shushing him before he could cause Tyler to panic further. “No PR and no one from the Stars organization can know about this.”

 

Johnny nodded to himself, bowing his head until he was closer to the phone. “Tranquilizers?” Pat winced as he heard Tyler whimper from the other end.

 

“No,” was Seguin’s clipped reply, anger edging into his voice.

 

“Hey, Tyler. That fine. We don’t have to do that. But we need to keep you safe.” Jon’s voice a soothing timbre – the same calm tone he used when trying to keep the fish from scurrying. “Jamie would wanna keep you safe too. I know him. We won gold together. He adores you. Can you do me a favor?”

 

Tyler’s end was quiet and Pat could count every beat of his heart during those beats of dead air until they heard his hushed response. “Ok?” It was more of a question than consent but it was enough.

 

“Put your end on speaker and then slide it underneath the door.” As the words left Johnny’s mouth – Pat snatched the phone to his chest. Seconds away from telling Tyler to abort but Johnny grabbed at his wrist – forcing the phone out of his hand. He met his eyes and Jon whispered, “Trust me.”

 

Patrick let go of the phone but not his doubt. They were about to lose their only line of connection with Tyler so they could try and reason with a crazed Alpha. Pat wondered if they had Jordie’s number.

 

They heard as the phone scraped across wood and carpet. Pat closed his eyes, feeling helpless and hating it. “Jamie? Do you hear me? Can you speak?” Johnny rumbled low but commanding. It was his captain voice. The response was sudden – a loud growl followed by banging. Pat grabbed at Johnny’s hand out of instinct. It was the response of a possessive Alpha who knew another Alpha was demanding he yield.

 

Johnny responded with a louder growl as he held the phone close. “Listen to me Jaime. I don’t want Tyler. He’s yours. I have Pat. Smell the fucking air. I’m not even close. I’m in Chicago. But Tyler’s scared. You’re scaring him.”

 

The heavy breathing on the other line made Pat think that Benn had picked up the phone and was holding it close instead of throwing it. That was a good sign and when Jamie finally answered Patrick let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “No. Tyler’s safe. I keep him safe. I always do.” The words were strung together chaotically – each one being punched out of Jamie with force.

 

There was a part of Patrick that strangely understood. Jamie had proven in the past year and a half that he could protect Tyler. Not just on the ice but off it. That he could calm Tyler’s more wild urges without being overbearing. Tyler had commented that their chemistry – that primal connection – had linked them together almost instantly. Their hormones and personalities had been in simpatico from the start and it could really only end in one place. Where they were right now.

 

“If you want to keep Tyler safe you need to listen to me. He’s not ready to mate. You’ll hurt him.” Johnny drew out each word, letting them reverberate at the other end – hoping the words got through the fog of Benn’s Rut. “You need to protect him from yourself.”

 

A beat passed but Jamie finally responded. Pat grip on Johnny’s hand tightened. “How?” Patrick could see the calculating look in Jon’s eyes. The vision of a man who could see a play happening before it was even set up.

 

“Does Tyler keep any of his hormone suppressants at your house?” Patrick’s eyes widened. He looked at Johnny for confirmation and the slight nod from his Alpha had him shaking his head.

 

He silently moved his lips, “Too dangerous.”

 

But Johnny responded, “Trust me.”

 

“Yes.” Their stare down was interrupted by Jamie’s shaky voice and Johnny pushed on.

 

“Good. And do you have any painkillers from your team’s doctor?”

 

“Yes.”

 

From there it was a tenuous procedure of getting an Alpha in Rut to inject himself with Omega Heat Suppressants without accidentally puncturing anything vital. Then having Jamie take the prescribed two pills for a shoulder injury he no longer had. They stayed on the phone with him as he slowly dozed into sleep.

 

“I love him. I just want him to be mine,” Jamie mumbled, almost completely out of it.

 

“I know, bud. And tomorrow you and Seguin are gonna need to have a long talk.” The phone went dead soon after, the last sounds being Benn’s loud snores.

 

Patrick listened on as Johnny called Jordie and had him cautiously lock Jamie in the spare bedroom before taking Seguin back to his own house. By the end there was only one nagging question Patrick had.

 

“How did you know that Omega Heat Suppressants and painkillers could knock somebody out?” Patrick wrapped his arms around Johnny’s waist from behind as his Alpha leaned over the sink - splashing cold water on his face. It was nearly six in the morning and they had practice in an hour. That was going to be painful.

 

“When you had your leg injury last season. I noticed you didn’t take the same painkillers I used for my shoulder.” Johnny turned in his arms, settling his chin on top of Pat’s greasy curls. “I brought it up to our doctor and he gave me your file. Said since I was your Alpha none of your medical files were confidential to me.” 

 

Pat swore underneath his breath even though he already knew that. Johnny could look at his files anytime he wanted because it was his right. All of Patrick belonged to him. “That’s when you found out that Omega’s have to take special painkillers because the normal ones react badly with our suppressants.”

 

“That when I found out that all Omegas are fucking warriors because they have to take weak-ass doses of painkillers just so it doesn’t react badly with their suppressants. That’s when I found out that you’re the strongest person I know.” Every one of Johnny’s words was met with a kiss on his mouth and by the end they were both breathless.

 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” Patrick mumbled as he found the curve between Jon’s chest and shoulder that he loved laying his head against. “What about Seguin and Benn? How are they gonna come back from this.”

 

Johnny sighed into his curls as he let his hands message up and down Pat’s back. “All they want to do is protect and love each other. They went about it the wrong way…”

 

“But so did we.” Patrick finished, still feeling a hint of hurt at the past memories but shook them off to be back in the now. “If they’re anything like us they’ll get their shit together.”

 

Pat took Johnny’s hand, leading him back into their bedroom so they could possibly get an extra hour of sleep. In a few hours they would have to deal with practices, games and an unbonded, Alpha/Omega pair. Two dumb kids, who probably looked up to them as some perfect couple. But if being bonded to Johnny for the past two and a half years had taught him anything – it was that no one was perfect.  

 

 


End file.
